


Domestic Bliss

by Moonllotus



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Canon Compliant, Domestic, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Long-Term Relationship(s), Love, M/M, Oneshot, Oral Sex, POV Simon, Post-Canon, Romance, Sex, Slice of Life, Smut, Top Simon, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 06:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18440648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonllotus/pseuds/Moonllotus
Summary: “I just want you,” I whisper against him, my hands roaming his ribs.Baz’s fingers are combing through my hair as he sinks into the mattress. “You already have me.”





	Domestic Bliss

“We're officially moved in!” I grin as I unpack the very last box. It’s full of glassware. Posh as shit cups that we probably didn’t need, but Baz is so extra that we _had_ to have them. It doesn’t bother me, I’d get him any type of cup that he wants. If he wants to drink out of crystal every night then so be it. I would do anything for him.

Our flat is fully furnished, an eclectic blend of the two of us, and I can’t help but glow with pride. It’s not as if I hadn’t lived with Baz before, we shared a dorm room for seven bloody years. This is different though. When we were in Uni I lived with Penny (although she would argue that Baz lived there too) (technically he didn’t, he lived with Fiona, he was just over most of the week). It had been a lovely break from each other, a chance to grow individually in our own space. Uni is over now, and Micah found a job in London so he and Penny are living together. This was actually perfect, it caused Baz and I to make a decision on whether we were ready to live together again.

We were.

Our flat has a wall of windows in the living that I like. Windows that Baz has dressed with white gauzy drapes to allow as much lighting in as possible. Not so much that it’ll hurt him, but enough to keep our apartment well lit and warmer than typical room temperature. Everything is minimal and clean, but cozy. It’s not as posh as Baz had wanted, but we’re not slumming it either.

He’s a banker, and he could afford better, but I’m a teacher. I wanted our place to be something that both of us could contribute to. Something that would be both of ours equally.

I love it.

I smile at the photos of our friends and his (my?)( _our_?) family on the walls. There’s a selfie of Mordelia and me from last Hallowe’en where I was a devil and she was an angel (that’s Baz’s favorite). (Probably due to the silly face’s we’re making.)

The color scheme is mostly white, but with blue and green accents, and wood undertones. It smells of bergamot and cinnamon. It’s calming. It’s home.

“Finally,” Baz sighs as he moseys into the kitchen and leans down to kiss the mole at the hinge of my jaw, which causes me to smile. “I felt as if we were unpacking for ages.”

“You’re so dramatic,” I grin up at him and pull him down for a proper kiss on the month. The truth is that he’s the most dramatic person that I have ever met. People think he’s the sensible one out of the two of us and they could not be more wrong.

Baz rolls his eyes and stretches on his toes, his long arms going up above him. I watch him, appreciating how his shirt rides up to expose skin and how his jeans hug his thighs.

“Shall we order takeaway for dinner?” I ask, our refrigerator has essentials, but I have to go to the market in order for us to truly survive.

“That’s fine,” Baz responds as he opens the fridge for a container of blood. We keep a few tubs of it in the ice box, magicked to look like containers of ice cream in case nosy guests decide to check in the freezer for anything.

I openly stare as he bends to retrieve the blood and straightens up. Then as he pours it into a mug and pops it into the microwave. We get our supply from three separate butchers, alternating between them once a month to avoid too many suspicions.

“What?” Baz arches a brow at me, but it doesn’t really get his point across when his hair falls across his forehead like that. It softens him.

“I’m just appreciating how good my boyfriend looks, is that an issue?” I ask him.

His face becomes shy and he gives me a poor imitation of a smirk. We’ve been together for over five years and he still becomes bashful. I wish others can see this. See this sardonic, sarcastic, calculating and cold man change into something soft and malleable. At the same time, I’m happy that it’s all just for me.

I take my phone out and order us a pizza, noticing how Baz makes a second mug of blood for himself. His fangs clink against the edge of the ceramic. I’ve tried to talk him into using straws, but he gave me the dirtiest look at the suggestion.

“Hungry?” I stretch my wings out a bit. I’ve scheduled removal surgery for this summer, Dr. Wellbelove has a colleague who specializes in supernatural procedures. Honestly, I really want to be able to go out in public without worrying if my spell was going to suddenly stop working. And I want Baz to be able to wrap his arms around me without minding the extra appendages. It’s not as if I use them to fly.

“Famished,” Baz nods, finishing off his second mug and then washing it with soap in the sink by hand. He uses magic for a lot, but when it comes to dealing with blood he rather makes sure that things are properly disinfected.

“Drink up,” I peer at him from under my lashes, “you’re going to need it for later.”

“Oh?” But his lips are twitching, he’s trying to suppress how pleased he is by this.   

While he is dramatic, we _have_ been unpacking for nearly the entire week. It’s the summer holiday so I’ve literally spent all of my days putting things together. We haven’t had that much time for more than the occasional quick kisses and soft cuddles before falling asleep at night. Today is Baz’s day off, and him being around me all day has put me on edge in the best way possible.

I take a shower before the pizza arrives. The flat is a two bedroom and one bathroom. Similar to the one that Penny and I shared, only a little larger. A little more modern, which was what Baz had wanted. We have the guest room as an office, but I think Baz is preparing it for when Mordelia is older and wants to visit. She’s thirteen now, it’s only a matter of time. The rest of his siblings are too young, and Mordy is who he’s closest to. Their relationship is similar to Baz and Fiona’s.

When I get out of the shower, wearing a pair of track shorts and nothing else, the pizza is on the table.

Baz watches me, and I grin at him brightly before sitting down across from him. I used to be able to just throw myself down on a chair, having wings and a tail has changed that. We don’t talk much, which works for me. I prefer silence over inane chatter, I know he does too. We’ve been together all day so it’s not as if there’s anything new to report, not like when we’re working.

When we’re done Baz excuses himself to take a shower and I can’t help the smirk that crosses my face. He usually takes his shower in the morning, it’s always been that way. The thought of him in the bathroom preparing himself causes my blood to rush. That’s what he’s probably doing, using magic to clean himself, using magic to loosen his muscles. I admit that doing things with just fingers and patience is nice, but sometimes a man just wants to get to the main event without all the extra work.

I wonder if he’s going to use **Slippery When Wet**.

I wait until Baz has spent roughly forty minutes in the bathroom (he’ll take about an hour),  cleaning the kitchen up and putting the leftovers away. I stretch and shake my head, making sure the front door is locked and the curtains are drawn. The sun is setting and I watch how it casts shadows in the room for a few minutes before heading towards our bedroom.

 _Our_ bedroom.

Baz insisted on a king-sized mattress, it’s massive. I’ve never slept in a bed so big other than at Pitch Manor, not even at the Grimm’s Oxford Estate was a bed that large. Our’s is.

It’s got a black rod iron head and footboard, rounded and simple. I picked it out and was surprised that Baz agreed with it. The sheets are light green, they smell of detergent and are soft to the touch. The bed is probably the best investment in this entire flat. (Second to Baz of course.) (I’d never say that out loud.)

I can hear him opening the bathroom door from across the hall, his footsteps nearly silent on the hardwood floor. I know he could be deathly silent, he’s got the ability to sneak easily, it must be a vampire thing.

He’s leaning against the door jam but I don’t look up from turning the sheets down. When I finally do glance up I freeze. My blood rushing to my cock.

Baz is naked. Standing casually, hip leaning and arms loosely folded. I hope that I never tire of the sight of him. He’s fit. So fucking fit that it makes my mouth dry. He’s got the body of a footballer, his impossibly long legs muscular, his hip bone juts out, and he has the beginnings of pecs and abs. He has the body of an athlete, he still plays football with a local team for fun. It keeps him in wonderful shape.

His treasure trail is as black as the hair on his head and I know it’s coarse, leading down to his curved cock. It’s half hard, and slowly growing stiffer the longer I stare at him. I can only imagine what expression I have on my face. My wings have flared up without my meaning to, my tail is wrapped around my thigh, and my cock is beginning to strain against my trackies. Arousal is pumping through my veins.

I’m not sure how long we look at each other, but when Baz finally takes those few steps up to me, he grabs me by the back of my skull and kisses me. He kisses as if he’s trying to devour me, and I moan softly into it. I could die kissing him. Instead I turn us so that I can easily shove him onto the bed. He’s the stronger one out of the two of us, but he lets me manhandle him however I want to.

He’s smiling up at me and my breath hitches at the adoring look on his face. Without saying a word, Baz shuffles himself up towards the head of the bed and leans back on his elbows, watching as I take off my shorts. It’s not sexy whatsoever, I’m not graceful, I fumble a bit as I step out of them, using my wings to steady me.

His eyes are blown out as he drinks me in. My body is nowhere near as fit as Baz’s. I go to the gym because I have so much excess energy that I don’t know what to do with myself. Baz forced me to join a fencing class, stating that he paid for a year’s worth of sessions as a birthday gift last year. It’s done me well. My shoulders are broad, my chest and arms are built, my thighs are thick, but my tummy is soft. I have more chest hair and a thicker treasure trail than he does. Baz appreciates it all.

“Are you just going to stand there or are you actually going to get down here with me, Snow?” Baz arches a brow, but the effect is ruined by the fact that it looks like his mouth is beginning to fill up.

“You’re so awful,” I tell him as I crawl over him, spreading my body over his and leaning down to kiss him. He’s cool against my extra heat, we match so well.

His tongue is in my mouth, dancing with mine. We rut against each other, cocks on hips, occasionally rubbing against each other.

I pull away from him and begin kissing his cheeks, chin, jaw. All of his sharp edges. I kiss down his neck and bite it, causing him to hiss and stroke my wing joint, which in turn makes me hiss into his skin.

“You’re in quite the mood,” He sighs as I nibble my way down his body, focusing on his nipples.

“I just want you,” I whisper against him, my hands roaming his ribs.

Baz’s fingers rake through my hair and he’s sinking into the mattress as I lap at his nipples one at a time with my tongue, swirling it around the sensitive nubs and watching them harden. “You already have me.”

I smile as I make my way further down. He let’s go of me.

I don’t touch his cock right away, I never do. Despite being together for just over five years, despite no longer being enemies, we still tend to antagonize each other. I still enjoy pushing him, he never outright loses composure, but I always know when he does. Granted, our fights wind up a little bit different now.

Instead I nibble at where his thigh meets his groin, pushing his legs up over my shoulders. I’m hard enough that it aches, but I can never resist a pliant Baz.

My tongue traces every piece of him that it can. His hole, his perineum, his balls, his cock. All of it is thoroughly handled by my mouth. He’s shivering as I take his cockhead and suck hard while slipping a finger in him. He did use a spell, already heavily lubricated and hotter than normal.

He grasps my hair as I bob my head, making sure to take my time fingering him. I know Baz doesn’t really need it, it’s unnecessary. He used magic to help him adjust already. But I like doing it. I love feeling him shift and shiver and tighten and relax. I love being able to elicit such responses.

Plus he doesn’t taste bad. He’s salty (I joke that it reflects his soul), but his skin is soft as velvet.  His smell is damp and earthy, sweat beginning to mingle with the scent of just him. I could honestly go down on Baz all day if he’d let me. The taste and texture of him are addicting.

“Crowley Simon,” Baz is petting my hair with trembling hands as I hook my fingers up, causing him to groan and shift his hips down. “When are you actually going to fuck me?”

I chuckle around him before popping off. “Who says that’s what’s going to happen?”

“Stop being such a liar, Simon.” Baz presses his lips together in order to prevent a pout.

I scoot back, allowing myself to sit up and grunt as I pull at his legs, God they’re so long. I love how long they are. I love everything about his body.  

I carefully place one leg over my shoulder and allow the other to hang off of my elbow. He’s exposed to me better this way, spread apart in the way that I always want him to be. And then I take myself in hand and _push_. In, in, in.  He’s tight, so fucking tight, it’s difficult to move, but every little thrust is amazing. My body breaks out into goosebumps and I swallow uselessly. My wings flare up behind me, brushing the walls of our bedroom, but they keep me balanced and they help me move. My tail is wrapped around one of Baz’s ankles.

“Simon.” He gasps, laid out before me. His body is long lines and sharp angles, and I want him to stay splayed out beneath me for the rest of our lives. His fangs have finally popped as he throws his head back and whines, protruding out of his mouth and making his pouty lips even bigger. His arms are above his head, long fingers gripping the rod iron headboard tightly.

I push in deeper, taking in a breath before I start to grind. I suck on my teeth and choke on a loud moan that is stuck in my throat, caused by the feel of him around me. And I know damn well that this is hitting that spot inside of him that always makes him spill. I know how much he likes this.

Baz is practically folded in half, and I don't resist the urge to lean over and bite his neck again. He may be the vampire, but I’m the one with the kink. When I pull my mouth away, I watch his pale skin stretch over his muscle and bone, his ribs, his sternum, his nipples. The light grey-pink flush of his cheeks, the way he’s trembling with every breath.

His cock is darkly flushed, hard, and leaking onto his belly as I press into him until there’s no space between us. Our bodies joined tightly together.

“Fuuuuuck,” He gasps, eyes squeezed tight and body tense.

“Isn’t this what you wanted, darling?” I can’t help teasing him. He feels so good. He always feels amazing, tight and warm and slick with lubrication. It takes a lot to not just rut into him, to take my time. It’s worth it, to watch him unravel. I think I’m addicted to getting him off.

Baz attempts to talk but it comes out as a groan. He takes a moment to wet his lips and try again, “sod off, Snow.”

“Really?” I raise both brows at him, shifting my pelvis and pulling out slightly just to push in slowly. I sigh loudly as I do it. I keep my gaze down to where we’re joined and watch myself disappear into his body. Watch myself fuck him. I thrust languidly, I’m not in a rush, this isn’t a race. And if it were then I intend to come last.

My hands grip his thighs tightly, palming at his skin, refusing to touch his cock. I grind again, just to hear him cry out. Just to hear him become steadily louder. He’s usually the quiet one during sex, soft panting and face burrowed into a pillow. Silencing spells cast on the walls to ensure Penny or Fiona don’t hear our skin slapping together. We don’t have to be silent anymore. And this is me indulging.

"Answer me Basilton,” I demand softly.

“I hate you so much right now,” Baz whimpers, it comes out slurred around his teeth.

I chuckle, leaning forward and tracing over his ribs. I’m trying not to put too much of a strain on his hips and legs, but I can’t help  licking at his nipple as I begin to pick up my pace. Hard and deep. So deep. It’s like he’s sucking me into him. Pleasure courses through me as I bite at his clavicle and grip his waist.

“You feel so good,” I whisper to him.

His hands moved from the headboard to my shoulders, mindful to stay away from my wing joints. Fingers digging into my skin in a deliciously painful way. Him moving his hands causes the bed to begin slamming into the wall. There’s sweat pooling between us, and his cock is being rubbed against my stomach. His hair is plastered to his face, and he’s pulling my own hair back away from my eyes, taking the sweat with it. Baz tugs on my hair and I grind into him just to see his face contort in a pleasurable grimace. I fucking love seeing his teeth on display like that.

I want to kiss him, but he won’t let me with his fangs out. I want him to bite me too, I want to feel his fangs pierce into my body as I thrust into his. I want to feel like I’m wholly his, in every way possible.

Instead, I lean back up and begin to touch his cock, tugging in time with my movements.

It doesn’t take long. It never does when we get to this point. I watch him fall apart, making a mess all over himself. I moan as he tightens even further around me, as he eventually takes my hand off of him when it becomes too much. I’m not done yet, I won’t be done for several minutes. But I grind into him, and he howls because it’s too much, he’s too sensitive. More of his orgasm drools out as I do it, and he shakes like a leaf.

“You’re such a dick,” Baz tells me, but he’s laughing breathlessly.

“You like that,” I tell him as I begin to really pound into him. Mindful of not going too deep, not when he’s still convulsing around me like this.

“I love it.” Baz is nearly boneless as he watches me with hooded eyes.

God, he’s beautiful. He’s gorgeous. He’s all mine. The tightening pull in my lower stomach is becoming overwhelming. I hold onto him firmly and bite my lower lip.

“Are you going to come, Simon?” He asks, his hands placed over mine.

“Mm-hm,” I shut my eyes. It feels like it used to when I went off. My body tightening, my muscles flexing, my jaw clenching as the heat of it all washes over me, “fuck, fuck, fuck.”

If Baz were capable of being bruised then he’d have finger-shaped ones on his legs.

“Come on, love,” Baz is moving his hips with me and I can’t help the sounds that I’m making, “give it to me.”

Orgasms have always been tricky for me. They’re too much, I always feel like I’m going to explode. Like my molecules are buzzing, like I’ll disintegrate. My hands and feet are starting to tingle, my lower back and thighs are straining, my wings are tense above us, my tail is gripping his ankle as if he’s the only thing holding me down.

And then the world narrows until there’s nothing left. My vision blanks, my ears are ringing, and I’m growling from deep within my chest as pleasure washes throughout my entire body. I’m floating in it. Baz tightens and clenches around me, making sure to milk it all out of me, I shake helplessly, rubbing his legs as my body loosens.

“Shit,” I gasp. It takes a few moments before I gently pull out and lower his legs off of me. My tail lets him go, my wings droop down against my back. “Shit.”

Baz chuckles, but he scoots over and grabs his wand from the side table while allowing me to practically crash face first onto the bed.

“ **Clean As A Whistle** ,” Baz murmurs.

The spell hits me and I suddenly no longer feel sticky or sweaty. I hate having cleaning spells done on me but I’m glad he did it, my legs couldn’t carry me to the bathroom for another shower, not when my eyes are refusing to open fully. “Whistles aren’t particularly clean.”

“Shut up, Snow.”

“Make me.”

“Let me get the blanket, I’m cold,” Baz nudges a foot against my leg. I grunt and move, allowing him to drape the sheet over us. “Alright, love?”

“You wear me out,” I mutter as I curled closer to him, my mouth resting against his bare shoulder. I breathe in the scent of his skin, lingering with our sex. I nuzzle him and press a kiss where my mouth is before leaning forward and pressing against his mouth.

We kiss for a while. Soft, unhurried, sometimes our tongues touch and twist around each other. His hands are caressing my wing joints gently, the nerves there are extra sensitive and it always makes me shiver. I have a hand in his hair, I’m using my other arm to hold me up above, forcing him to come up and meet me.

When we part, Baz peers at me with a soft smile, “you fuck like a slag. Don’t come at me and tell me that _I_ wear _you_ out.”

He’s not wrong. I have wicked endurance, it’s something that we learned early on.

“Shut up,” I mutter as I nuzzle my face into the place between his neck and shoulder.

He pets my back and chuckles lowly, I feel the vibrations in my chest. “I love you.”

“I love you,” I sigh as sleep creeps over me.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my fics and want more feel free to follow me on **[tumblr](https://moonllotus.tumblr.com/)**


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